


Paying Debts

by seraphina_snape



Category: Leverage
Genre: M/M, fake boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:51:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn calls in his favor and asks Eliot to help out on a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paying Debts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theron09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theron09/gifts).



> Written for [theron09](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theron09/pseuds/theron09) as part of the [leverageland](http://leverageland.livejournal.com) Winterfest Gift-Giving challenge.
> 
> Please consult the notes at the end of this work. (Trigger warning!)

"You could at least look like you're having fun," Quinn said, putting another beer down in front of Eliot before sitting back down. "After all, this is a date, honey." 

"It's not a date, _darling_!" Eliot growled. He took a big gulp of his beer. "It's a favor to a frie--colleague, all right? And after this, we're square." 

Quinn grinned. "Sure thing." 

Eliot glared at him for one second longer before he forced his face into a somewhat amused and definitely fun-having mask. He leaned back in his chair, the bottle of beer held loosely in one hand, the other one draped over the back of Quinn's chair. 

They chatted about baseball and fishing, all the while observing the rest of the bar's patrons. Then Quinn touched Eliot's arm in what would appear to be an affectionate gesture to an outsider. "Seven o'clock," he murmured. 

Eliot smiled in response to the fake caress and let his gaze drift from the bar area - lots of single guys, most of them older than the average customer of this establishment - over a group of raucous young men playing some kind of drinking game and across a line of booths that held mostly couples. 

The guy at seven o'clock stood out about as much as Eliot and Quinn did. Everyone else, from the bartender to the guy in the corner who looked to be in his seventies - if not older - looked like they'd just stepped out of the most stereotypical gay sitcom that ever existed. Pastel colors and flamboyant behavior were everywhere, like someone had taken a large bag of stereotypes and dumped the contents all over the bar. Hell, they'd been playing the best of show tunes for the last hour Eliot and Quinn had been here. Eliot was dressed the same way he always was, and Quinn had dressed down from his usual professional self to match Eliot's jeans and plaid style. They stood out like two sore thumbs in this place. Eliot figured that was kind of the point. Seven O'clock Guy was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, with a blue jean jacket tossed over the chair next to him, making him as much of a sartorial outsider as Quinn and Eliot. 

"Could be him," Eliot said. "Matches the description." 

"Hmm. Let's test that theory," Quinn said. Before Eliot had time to realize what he meant by that, Quinn was leaning in to drop a kiss onto Eliot's mouth. It was just a harmless little peck on the lips, and Eliot felt... angry. That was not how he'd imagined their first ki - and whoa, that thought needed to go back to the lockbox in his mind _right now_. Keeping a tight control of his emotions and his expression, he tonelessly asked, "And?" 

"Oh, it's definitely the guy," Quinn said. "Looking at us like he wants to kill us." He grabbed the beer right out of Eliot's hand and downed it in one big gulp. "Come on, babe, let's go home," he said, a little louder. 

Quinn was having way too much fun with this. Eliot glared at him for good measure and then, to cover himself, said, "That was my beer."

Quinn rolled his eyes. "I'll make it up to you. Promise." 

"You better," Eliot grumbled, but he reached out and took Quinn's offered hand without delay. 

Their observer didn't even wait until they were out of the door to scramble for his jacket. He was on the phone before the door had closed behind them. 

"Okay, that was just pitiful," Quinn said. 

Eliot shrugged. "They can't all be criminal masterminds." 

"It's not even going to be a challenge," Quinn complained. He tugged on Eliot's hand. "Let's walk a little slower or we'll reach the car before these idiots have a chance to catch up." 

Eliot slowed his pace, but even so they reached the car park of a nearby supermarket where they'd parked the car before their observer and his friends had caught up to them. 

"Just great. How'd these idiots ever manage to bash anyone? Did they all go for a potty break before following us?" 

Quinn shrugged. "We caught his eye; now we just have to wait until he and his little friends get here." Quinn smirked. "Oh, and we probably shouldn't make it obvious that we're just waiting around for them." 

"Awesome," Eliot said. He took a deep breath and pushed his impatience down. He just wanted to get this over with and go home. "You keep an eye out, I'll take care of the distraction." With that, Eliot took another step towards Quinn, trapping him between the car and his body. He settled his hands on Quinn's hips and leaned forward, pressing small kisses to Quinn's neck and jaw. 

"They're at the corner. Eight guys, plus our guy," Quinn said, wrapping his arms around Eliot. "Let's give them a little incentive." 

"What do you think I've been doing all evening?" Eliot said. 

He was a little better prepared when Quinn leaned in to kiss him again. Quinn didn't settle for a quick brush of lips against lips this time. Instead he went all out, sliding one hand into the back pocket of Eliot's jeans while the other snaked under his t-shirt. Eliot, not to be outdone, pressed a little closer, fisted a hand in Quinn's hair - worn down today instead of in a pony tail, probably to fit the image a little better - and just fell into the kiss like it was the most natural thing he'd ever done. 

When he felt someone tap his shoulder none too gently, Eliot waved a hand in their general direction and broke away from Quinn long enough to growl "go away" at them. The second tap was so much a tap as it was a punch to the shoulder. Eliot turned around and glared. 

Seven O'clock Guy was shadowed by a group of men ranging from early twenties to middle age, all dressed in jeans and black t-shirts. All of them were carrying some kind of weapon. Eliot counted five baseball bats, two tire irons, one crowbar and one piece of heavy pipe. No guns or knives, thankfully, although he suspected he and Quinn wouldn't have a problem dealing with those. The men looked like a bunch of wannabes who counted on strength in numbers and a brute force attack as their main strategy. 

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Seven O'clock Guy said. "You can stop with that disgusting behavior." 

"We don't want your kind in our neighborhood!" another one said from the back. Another one shouted, "We're all decent people here; we don't need this on our streets!"

"Decent people, huh?" Quinn said. "Seems to me that decent people don't bash other people's heads in. What do you think, Eliot?" 

Seven O'clock Guy and his cronies exchanged confused looks. 

"Seems to me you're right," Eliot said. "Beating someone up for no reason, leaving them to die in some back alley parking lot? Not the decent thing to do." 

"Doesn't seem fair, either," Quinn remarked, "nine guys against two."

Eliot shrugged, using the motion to casually shift his body into a better fighting stance. He felt Quinn do the same beside him. "I guess they're just cowards." 

One of the guys, a balding middle-aged guy, let out a wordless shout of rage and swung his baseball bat at Eliot's head. Eliot caught it mid-swing and yanked it out of the guy's hands. A second later, the baseball bat was flying off into the bushes and the balding guy was knocked out on the pavement. Eliot turned and took on the next one. This one was a younger guy, armed with a tire iron. He looked scared to death, so Eliot didn't waste time with fancy moves. He didn't even attempt to disarm the guy; he simply jabbed his fist into the man's solar plexus and watched him crumple to the ground. The tire iron skittered underneath Quinn's car. 

The next two were a little smarter, attacking at the same time. But they still were no match for Eliot. He caught the first man's wrist on the downswing and delivered a painful blow to the man's kidney. The move turned his back to his other opponent who took the chance to bring his baseball bat down across Eliot's back. Eliot automatically kicked out and his foot connected with the man's knee with a satisfying _snap_. The man's legs buckled and he fell down. 

Eliot turned back to the man whose wrist he was still holding. He still had the pipe clutched in his hand but couldn't use it against Eliot.

"Not much fun when the other guy's stronger, is it?" Eliot asked. He squeezed the man's wrist, making sure to dig his fingers into the areas that hurt the most. With a pained cry, the man let go of the pipe which clattered to the ground and rolled away. 

Quinn had the last two guys well under control and Eliot was still pissed and in need of some way to work off his aggression. So maybe it was a little petty of him, but he used the guy's own hand to slap some sense into him. Who did these guys think they were, anyway? 

"You just about done there?" Quinn asked. Eliot glanced up. Three of the guys Quinn had fought were unconscious, the other two were, for all intents and purposes, down and crying for their mommies.

Eliot finally let go of the guy and pushed him back against Quinn's car. "Yeah, pretty much. You call the cops?" 

"On the way."

"You'll never get away with this!" the idiot that was still standing said. Then he gulped when both Eliot and Quinn turned to glare at him. 

"You still don't get it, do you?" Quinn said. "Your little ring of gay bashers is busted. You're going away for a long time." 

"You don't know who you're dealing with," the guy tried again. 

"We know exactly who you and your little friends are, Officer Pierce," Quinn said. "And maybe you could make the evidence on the previous cases disappear, but now they've got to walking, talking witnesses instead of seven guys in a coma and three too terrified to talk. Have fun in prison, Officer."

"No one's going to believe you two disgusting perverts!"

Quinn grinned. "And did I mention that the security cameras from the bank next door also cover this part of the supermarket parking lot? Not to mention the one in my car." Quinn pointed at a small camera attacked to the dashboard. He leaned a little closer and whispered, "That one also has sound." 

The wait for the cops took four minutes. Explaining the whole situation took almost another hour. 

Eliot listened with half an ear as Quinn spun his story about being a private detective hired by one of the previous victims' family. It wasn't all a lie - Quinn was registered as a private detective, but he hadn't been hired to find the guys. He'd been hired to beat the shit out of them and then, maybe, hand them over to the cops. Mission accomplished.

The cop turned to him. "And you, sir?" 

"Eliot's my boyfriend," Quinn said before Eliot could answer, slinging his arm around Eliot's waist. "We met in the army." 

"Is this going to take long?" Eliot asked. "I got work in the morning." 

"Err, no, sir. I think we have pretty much everything we need. You might not even have to testify, considering the video evidence we have." 

"The kid," Eliot said, nodding to the youngest guy of the bunch, "will probably confess given half a chance." 

"Right," the cops said, making a note in his notebook. "We'll call you if we have any more questions." 

"You do that," Eliot said. "Come on, _darling_ , let's go." 

The ride back to Eliot's hotel was quiet. Eliot wasn't sure why he hadn't figured out before that he was attracted to Quinn, but now that he was aware of it things weren't any different. So what if wanted to jump the guy? It wasn't happening. He'd go back to Portland and he'd deal with it.

"This hotel of yours got a bar? Because I could use a drink," Quinn said, glancing at Eliot. "You look like you could use one yourself." 

They were almost at the hotel. Eliot wasn't sure what to do. If he said no, that was that. But if he said yes... well, that was a can of worms he really shouldn't open. 

"Well, what do you say?" Quinn asked. "Drinks are on me. Are you coming?"

Eliot took a calming breath and let it out slowly. "I could go for a beer," he said. 

Quinn parked the car and they headed towards the hotel. As they crossed the lobby, Quinn bumped Eliot's arm and asked, "Eliot?"

"Hmm?"

"Just to be clear. This? _Is_ a date."

Eliot looked at Quinn. The expression on Quinn's face was completely nonchalant, but by now Eliot was familiar enough with him to see the underlying tension. He smiled. "If this is a date, I should get to pick the bar." 

"Oh, yeah? And why's that?"

"The last place you took me to was seriously lacking, man. The music sucked, there was no TV and it had a freaking disco ball instead of a ceiling fan." 

"Can't argue with that," Quinn said. "So, where are we going?" 

Eliot stopped and pushed the button for the elevators. "My room. The minibar is fully stocked, I have a 60 inch flat screen tv and no assholes with baseball bats are going to interrupt anything." 

Quinn grinned at him. "Never had a better offer." 

The elevator dinged and the doors opened behind them. "After you," Quinn said. Eliot reached out and hauled Quinn into the elevator with him. They were kissing before the doors had fully closed.

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with a case of gay bashing. If this is not something you're comfortable reading about, this is not the story for you.


End file.
